Dark Potter Chronicles Year One
by perphektsolid
Summary: Harry Potter has been abused and mistreated his entire short life. But, on his eleventh birthday Harry recieves the greatest gift he could imagine...the truth of his past...and proof that he isn't as insignifigant as his family wants him to believe.


**Dark Potter Chronicles: Year One**

Disclaimer: Characters, places, and all manner of such things are property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, as well as the respective publishing companies that publish the books in various languages around the world. I do not own anything (except the idea behind this particular twist in the story), not even the computer I'm writing it on. This story is meant as a tribute to J.K. Rowling and her great stories. It is purely for the enjoyment of myself and others, and it is in no way meant to infringe on the copyrights and trademarks of the series' owner. Comments and such are welcome, but please do not flame. If you wish to comment or review the story, only include constructive criticism or praise, once again NO FLAMES. If you don't like the story, too bad, read something else. I write mainly for myself, and if others happen to enjoy it, then that makes me happy. This story is rated R, and may include adult situations and language. As usual, I'll try not to go too in depth when it comes to "steamy" scenes, but I make no promises this time, so all the same be fore warned. If you have any qualms about reading such material, you are under the age of at least 16-17, or it is illegal to read such material where you live, then don't read it.

Summary: This fic is a re-write of the Harry Potter series, starting from First Year. Cliche idea, I know, but hopefully I'll make it interesting. It'll be Powerful!Dark!Harry, but not Infallible!Harry. Main ship will be Harry/Tonks, though I do not plan to make her the same age as Harry is, I will age regress her to only four years older than him, in order to give them some interaction and set up the ship for the later additions to the series. I'm hoping that having him go Dark! And her being an Auror will make for some good plot elements.

"Speaking"

_Thoughts_

//Parseltongue//

**Chapter One: The Boy-Who-Lived**

The little boy looked so calm, so innocent that it sickened the man standing before him. Red eyes with slits like a snake looked down upon the boy sitting in the cot in the upper nursery of the cottage in Godric's Hollow. The little boy was looking through the bars of the cot at the mane of red hair that belonged to Lily Potter, who was laying out on the floor looking at her son with vacant expressionless eyes.

The tiny boy with emerald green eyes looked up then at the man with the red slit eyes and sniffled. Lord Voldemort couldn't help but feel for a moment that this baby boy of only eighteen months knew what had happened and that he would soon be joining his mother. Those green eyes seemed to be begging with everything that was in that small frame, for Lily to get up again, as if asking Voldemort to make her ok. The look was so sad and pathetic that Voldemort couldn't help but feel a slight tug in his chest. It was painful and he hated the feeling, he'd never before felt it when killing those who stood against him, so why was this time so different?

It had to be the eyes. Those green eyes drew him in and made him feel regret at causing the young boy this pain. They were so filled with emotion that even the Dark Lord, a man devoid of all emotion save for rage and hate, could briefly feel regret. It had to be stopped. He reached out a white hand with long, spider like fingers and caressed the boy's short dark hair. He didn't know why he was doing this, but he felt the need to. "Fear not, little one. Soon you shall be with your mother again. It won't hurt anymore," His high, hissing voice was soft as he spoke to the baby.

Voldemort pulled his hand back and raised his white Yew wand level to the boy's head. "Avada Kedavra!" The tip of the wand shown with a green light for a moment before the light erupted out in a twisting arc of sickly green energy. The arc shot through the small distance between Voldemort and baby Harry in a matter of seconds, striking the boy just above his right eye.

Voldemort's first clue that something was not right came when Harry let out a wail of pain. The killing curse was instantaneous and painless, Harry should not have had the time to cry out in pain, let alone have felt it. His slit like eyes widened in surprise and...was that fear?...when the green energy melted into the forehead of Harry Potter, and a split second later shot back out striking the Dark Lord square in the forehead.

The green arc connected the two for what felt like eternity before disappearing. The black cloaked body of the Dark Lord fell back lifeless, landing with a soft thud next to the red hair of Lily Potter's body. When his wand struck the floor it shot off a set of red sparks, catching a small group of stuffed animals on fire. The stuffed rat, stag, dog, and wolf blazed with fire, spreading it to the rest of the room.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore awoke with a feeling of dread. Something wasn't right. He reached out to his bedside table and grabbed his half-moon spectacles, then slipped them over his long crooked nose. He looked around the darkened bedroom before he heard it. A loud shrilling noise was tearing through the night. Albus recognized it immediately as the alarm he'd placed on the Potter's hiding place. If it was sounding...

The old man jumped from his bed as if he was a youth in his prime and sprinted for the door to his bedroom. Throwing open the door only served to increase the sound of the alarm. He bolted down the short steps from his room and over to his desk where a silver disc on a small silver pole was suspended. The disc was cracked, and worsening by the minute. A soft flutter of wings and sad, musical trill alerted Dumbledore to the fact that Fawkes, his pet phoenix, had alighted on his shoulder.

Bending over the desk Dumbledore scribbled out a note and then turned to face his friend. "Fawkes, I need to you take this note to Hagrid." The phoenix gave a bob of it's head before grabbing the small piece of parchment in it's beak and flying up into the air. A moment later the phoenix exploded in flames, off to deliver its message.

Dumbledore moved around his desk and sat heavily in his chair. He waved a hand, silencing the alarm that the disc had been making. He was hoping that it was just a false alarm, that the ward was still in place and the alarm had been mistaken, but he knew it wasn't true. He was the greatest wizard of his time, his wards and spells didn't fail. If the alarm had gone off, then that could only mean one thing...their world might very well be doomed.

* * *

Rubeus Hagrid rubbed the neck of the Thestral beneath him. The poor thing was carrying his massive weight without a single complaint. He knew he wasn't a light man and that the skeletal horse was suffering under him, but it was carrying on like a champion. He'd have to give it an extra helping of meat when they got back to the castle.

The winged horse looked down at the flaming cottage in Godric's Hollow and swooped down. It's hooves clicked on the paved road as it landed and trotted to a stop in front of the burning cottage. Hagrid jumped off the horse to stare in awe at the sight before him. The giant of a man strode forward slowly on shaky legs, how could Dumbledore be expecting anything to be alive in that? He couldn't, it was obvious. Dumbledore just needed confirmation that what he feared had really taken place.

The sound of an engine behind him caused Hagrid to turn and see who had shown up. Hagrid squinted to see who it might be. From on top of the motorbike came a handsome man of twenty-two, with shoulder length dark hair that curled slightly. Hagrid recognized him immediately as Sirius Black.

"Sirius...I wish we was meetin' un'er better circumstances. The headmaster send for you too?" The young man could only nod his head, his eyes fixed on the burning building before him. Hagrid turned back to the fire. "He was 'opin' maybe someone survived, bu'...I don' see how they coul' in tha'!" He raised a meaty hand to motion to the building.

Sirius was about to answer when a cry tore through the blazing night. Hagrid and Sirius shared a look of hope and dread, before bolting into the house without a care for their own well being. "Hagrid, you take upstairs. I'll look down here." The giant of a man nodded and bolted up the stairs, trying to avoid as much fire as his large frame could.

Sirius immediately spotted the body of his best friend beside the recliner in the living room. The fire was slowly spreading toward the front door, but hadn't gotten there just yet. The young man dropped to his knees, a hand brushing over his best friend's face. The glasses were askew, not sitting properly on James' face. Sirius removed them to close James' eyes before placing them back properly.

"Goodbye my friend," Sirius said while brushing a hand over his friend's face one last time. "I'll make it right." A dark look crossed Sirius' face as he looked around. Where was Harry? He heard Hagrid shout from upstairs. The huge man came thundering down with a small bundle in his arms. "Is that Harry?"

Hagrid nodded and ran outside, he had to get the baby out of the burning house fast. Once safely outside, Sirius approached Hagrid, his face bearing a look that scared Hagrid. Sirius looked like a man who wanted something...or someone, to die. "Give him to me Hagrid. James and Lily wanted me to take him if anything happened to them."

Hagrid looked from Harry to Sirius. That could be true, Sirius was Potter's best friend after all. But Hagrid didn't like the look on Sirius' face. He feared that the man might hurt Harry. It made Hagrid feel foolish to think that way, this was James' best friend, but the look on his face made Hagrid feel it none-the-less. "No." He took a step back and moved Harry a little to shield him with his body if Sirius tried anything. "Pr'fessor Dumbledore tol' me to take 'im to Hogwarts until the prep'ration are ready. An' tha's 'xactly wha' I'm gonna do!"

Sirius seemed to mull it over for a minute before nodding. "Take my bike. The red button on the right handle will make it fly, and a charm will activate to disillusion you and the bike when it's flying." He started to walk off then.

Hagrid watched him until Sirius turned on the spot and disappeared. Looking back down at baby Harry, the half-giant stroked his tiny cheeks with one meaty finger. "I'll loo' af'er you, 'Arry." The baby sniffled a few times and turned watery, pain filled eyes to watch Hagrid. His giant finger brushed some of the soot off the baby's face, and it was then that he noticed the red, angry scar on the baby's forehead, just above his right eye. "Wha's tha'?" It was oddly shaped like a lightning bolt.

Hagrid figured it to be an old wound, probably from playing too roughly with his father. But the scar was so red it looked new. Hagrid sent the Thestral he'd rode on back to Hogwarts to await it's treat. He needed to get Harry back to Hogwarts fast, he could already see the flashing lights of the Muggle authorities coming. They'd ask too many question about why he was taking the baby.

Hoping on the bike, Hagrid grabbed out a clean handkerchief, which was more like a small tablecloth, from one pant pocket and tied it so that it held Harry securely to his chest, thus freeing his arms for steering. In moments Hagrid and Harry were airborne, flying north across the dark starry sky.

* * *

Vernon Dursley was not what some would call a very open-minded individual. No, on the contrary, he was a man of set-in-stone ideals and beliefs. To Vernon, everything had it's place in life, and everything worked a certain way. Anything that broke these boundaries of existence was, to Vernon and his family at least, freakish in nature.

Case in point, his ten year old nephew, Harry Potter. The boy had arrived on their door step some nine years ago or so, with a little note attached. It explained simply that he had lost his parents and was being sent to the Dursley residence to be cared for and raised. This of course made Vernon upset.

The boy's parents were outcast from the family. Lily Evans-Potter, the sister of Vernon's wife Petunia, had run off right out of school to marry some bloke named James Potter whom Vernon had never heard of. The fact that Vernon had never heard of the man meant that he was not someone rich, famous, or important, and therefore was no good. Petunia had never been very forthcoming to Vernon about her sister or the new husband, and that only added to Vernon's initial impression of the pair. So it stood to reason that their son Harry would be no good as well.

The Dursleys had reluctantly taken the boy in, only because the neighbors had seen the basket that he had been left in and would have asked too many questions. They had raised the boy as best as could be expected of them given their prejudice, until the boy turned three and started to cause funny things to happen any time he was around. In a fit, Vernon had demanded to know what all this "funny business" was about. Petunia had finally come clean about her shamed past.

Her sister Lily was a witch and had gone to some school for their kind. She had married a, supposedly, wealthy wizard whom she'd met in school and Harry was their offspring. Petunia had then shown Vernon the letter that was addressed to her alone that had arrived with the boy which had explained the circumstances of Harry's orphan status. Needless to say, Vernon was not a happy man and this did nothing to improve his view of the boy.

From that day on Harry's already meager existence in the family had only gotten worse. By the time he was five years old he was expected to cook all the meals for the family that he could whenever he happened to not be at school. His "room", the cupboard under the stairs, began to double once more as a storage area, which caused him to have less room to himself. On top of all this, whenever freakish things happened, which was anything that Vernon felt couldn't possibly have happened without Harry's magical influence, Harry was beaten black and blue and then sent to be locked in the cupboard without food, sometimes for days on end.

Today was supposed to be a special day for the Dursleys. Today was the eleventh birthday of their son Dudley. Like always, the Dursleys would spoil the boy, give him more presents than he could possibly know what to do with, and take him and his friends on a special birthday trip. At six in the morning, Vernon felt it was time to get up and make sure "the boy", as he called Harry, was up and seeing to breakfast.

As the great whale of a man rolled out of bed and scratched himself, he frowned. He could already tell that something would happen today. It wouldn't be good, and like always would probably have to do with the boy. He lumbered and waddled his way out of the bedroom he shared with his wife and down the hall to the stairs, where he made extra sure to thump extra loud on his way down to wake the boy. But instead of the usual, "Coming Uncle Vernon!", that he received, he was instead greeted by the sounds of what sounded like a nightmare.

Frowning even more and grumbling under his breath about ungrateful good for nothing freaks, Vernon made his way to the door of the cupboard and pounded on it with one of his ham sized fists. "Boy! Wake up in there. BOY!"

* * *

It was the same as it always was. That scream. That horrible scream that ripped the otherwise pitch black that surrounded all things like it was consuming them like some vile beast. It was more pronounced this time, and he could swear it was a word being screamed. Straining to hear what was being screamed, Harry finally heard it.

"HAAAAAARRY!!"

Then there was a flash of green. Always that same flash of green. Color did not scare Harry Potter at all. That would be ridiculous, but there was something about this particular green that terrified the boy. It was like it meant certain death. To see that green meant that you would most surely die. Once again, Harry realized that the green was an almost sickly color, further raising this color's particular fear element.

It was funny really, how often he had these dreams now. He had been told by his Aunt Petunia that when he was a baby he woke up almost every night crying, from what she assumed was a nightmare. As he grew older, the nightmare had come less frequently. But for some reason this year, Harry had begun to have it more and more regularly. Harry would have pondered this more, but the next part of the nightmare began, this part was a new addition to it. It had only come to him in the past couple months.

A high, cold, almost hissing voice. And he knew, though he could not see the face of the man who spoke, that this person was evil. "A shame, she didn't have to die. No matter, what's done is done. Now to finish the task."

"BOY!"

That never happened before. That sounded a lot like his Uncle Vernon. And then the flash of green, brighter this time like it was coming for him. With a jolt, Harry sat up awake in bed.

* * *

"BOY! Get up this instant. When I open this door if you aren't up and ready to make breakfast, I'll make you regret you were ever born!"

As the doorknob clicked and started to turn Harry thought, 'Too late. I already regret it.' He quickly reached up and pulled the chain that hung down from the light above, bathing the cupboard space in a soft glow. No sooner had he done this than the door to the cupboard opened up to reveal the hulking form of Uncle Vernon.

"You're lucky this time boy. You look like you just woke up. Don't ever let me catch you sleeping in again or no food for a week! Understand?" He glared at Harry as if daring the boy to argue with him. When Harry remained silent, Vernon seemed to become disappointed that he wouldn't get to punish the boy. "Get up this instant and get to making breakfast. I want it extra special for Dudley's birthday or else!" With that, he turned around and lumbered off to go watch the morning news.

Harry sat looking at where the blurry figure of his uncle had been before grabbing his glasses off one of the shelves that held numerous object. _One day...I'm weak now, but one day I'll be strong enough to stand up to you._ Harry was not a naive boy. He'd seen many times how real families treated their kids. He could tell that the way he was treated was worse than the way people treated their dogs and cats. That only served to anger the boy all the more.

Long ago Harry had accepted his lot in life. He'd been led to believe that he was worthless and deserved his treatment. But as he ventured out more and more, usually to get away form his uncle, aunt or cousin, he saw real families together. It upset him then to realize that he was being treated worse than a damned animal. He also knew they were lying to him about stuff. Most likely about his parents. He saw the looks in their eyes when he brought up his parents. They became angry and almost fearful, as if he'd discover something. They were lying, and one day Harry would discover the truth.

But that would have to be another day. Sighing, Harry rose from his small cot and left the cupboard. He was not by any means a normal boy. He was small for his age, short by almost four inches. His body was skinny and extremely pale form the lack of sunlight that came with being cooped up under the stairs all the time. Not to mention, his startling emerald green eyes and the scar over his right eyebrow that was oddly shaped like a lightning bolt. He'd been told, as well as anyone who inquired about the scar, that it had been an injury he received the night his parents died in the car crash.

Harry stretched, hearing a few pops in his spine, and started for the kitchen. He figured, it being a special day and all, that he should make some blueberry pancakes (Dudley's favorites), bacon, sausage, eggs, hashers, and orange juice (fresh squeezed like Aunt Petunia insisted). He didn't mind the cooking so much, as long as he was left alone to it. Then he could always make a few extra pieces and eat while he worked. It was the only time he got more than the meager portions that he was normally limited to for meals.

Not long after Harry began breakfast, his Aunt Petunia made her morning appearance in her pink dressing robe. Not for the first time, Harry thought her face looked much like a horse's. Her body was tall and lanky, almost the direct opposite to Uncle Vernon and their son Dudley, who were both very rotund. She constantly looked down her nose at people and she had a tendency over exaggerate the truth or out right lie to make others see her and her family (sans Harry) in a perfect light.

Harry turned back to the stove and decided it was time to start the bacon. Of course, the smell of all this food cooking was quickly followed by slow, heavy footfalls on the stairs. Knowing that his time was limited, Harry quickly grabbed a couple sausages and ate them in a few bites. No sooner had he popped the last bit in than his over sized cousin Dudley set foot on the first floor. Vernon and Petunia quickly greeted their son in their overly loving manner. Harry, not for the first time, noticed that they treated him as the opposite of Dudley. They were overly loving with their son, and overly hostile toward Harry. Shrugging it off, Harry piled all the food onto the serving plates and set it at the table.

"Breakfast is ready. I made Dudley's favorite: blueberry pancakes." It only took one look up at his cousin for Harry to know he shouldn't have said anything.

Dudley gave Harry a grin, like he was in on some secret joke, and then turned to his dad. "DAAAAD! I don't want blueberry pancakes."

The effect was instantaneous. Vernon and Petunia immediately started trying to placate the boy with coos of, "But Diddie-kins you love blueberry pancakes."

Dudley scrunched his face up at the pet name his mother had for him. It made him seem like a weak little kid, and he wanted everyone to know that he was the toughest boy on the block. "That was yesterday! I don't like them anymore." Neither of the Dursley parents seemed to notice that Dudley was piling the pancakes onto his plate even as he professed his dislike of them. "It's my birthday! I wanted _strawberry_ pancakes."

Vernon immediately rounded on Harry. "BOY! Why in the blazes did you make blueberry when you damn well know Dudley doesn't like them?" His face was starting to turn an interesting shade of red, and looked like purple would soon be on it's way.

"But, Uncle Vernon...he just told us that! There's no way I could have known." The next thing Harry saw was the floor where he seemed to be holding himself up with his arms. A burning pain in his right cheek told him that Vernon had hit him, yet again.

"Don't sass me, boy! You're the one with the freak abilities. Don't try to tell me that you didn't know. I bet you made them just to get our Dudley upset again."

A hand on Vernon's arm stopped him mid-tirade. "Vernon, as much as I agree that the...freak deserves to be punished, think of what the neighbors will say when they see him with that bruise that's forming. They won't understand the hardship we go through. None of them will understand that he deserves it. They'll all just see some...brat getting hit."

Vernon looked between his wife and Harry and then plopped back into the chair he'd occupied. As he settled in, the chair gave a loud groan like it was going to give way. Harry remained here he was through the small exchange, slowly shaking his head to clear his vision. He looked up, eyes watery, at his family and though blurry, he could tell which one Dudley was form his snorting laughter at Harry's predicament. Harry thought it funny that the porky boy sounded like a pig.

"Little freak lost his glasses!" Dudley taunted.

Harry reached up one hand to check his face, only to discover that his glasses had indeed flown off when his uncle had struck him. He felt the area around where the frames curved around his right ear, and found that he had a few scratches there now, caused by the metal frames being forced off his face in a direction other than forward.

"Get up, boy!" Vernon stared Harry down for a bit, stuffing his face as he watched the youth. When he saw Harry wasn't going to retort, he turned back to the food on his plate.

Harry turned away from his Uncle and started to search for his glasses. He crawled on the floor to find them a couple feet away next to the sink. Sighing, he grabbed them, and pulled them on before noticing that they sported a crack in the right lens. Sniffling, Harry stood up and wiped his face with a sleeve of his shirt, muttering under his breath, "Grosse connard."

Vernon apparently was bright enough to realize something had been said, most likely pertaining to him, and rounded on Harry once more, "What did you say, boy?"

Harry took a moment to weigh his options, before shaking his head negatively. "Nothing, Uncle Vernon." Without another word Harry moved back tot he table and ate the single pancake he was allowed to have. As soon as the meal was finished, Harry cleared away the dishes and set to washing them. His 'relatives' went into the front room to watch a little television before Dudley's friends arrived for his birthday party.

That had been close. Not for the first time, Harry was glad that Uncle Vernon spoke German, not French. The national curriculum, making it so that British secondary school students needed to learn a foreign language had actually been a godsend to Harry. As Dudley had been sent to a better than average primary school, Harry had been sent there as well, if only to keep the neighbors from spreading rumors and gossip. The school, believing themselves to be the best, had decided to allow the primary kids to learn a foreign language of their choosing.

Vernon knew German because he had clients that bought his Grunnings Drills from him there. Dudley had taken German, and done poorly at it, in an effort to be like his father, and because it was a more 'macho' language. Harry had taken French as a defense mechanism. Whenever he had a class with Dudley, if he got better grades, he was beaten and accused of cheating. Since Dudley took an entirely different language class than Harry did, it meant he couldn't be punished for cheating off Dudley. That, of course, didn't stop Vernon from accusing him of cheating off other students.

Harry was drying the last glass when it slipped from his hands. The sound of glass shattering inside the sink echoed through the house as if all other sounds had been turned off. Harry was about to clean it all up when he realized that all sound HAD been turned off. With a feeling of foreboding, Harry turned around to see his very irate Uncle mimicking a tomato, and going for grape. It would have been if not for the event to follow. "Boy," Vernon's voice was eerily calm, "Did you just break one of Petunia's favorite glasses?"

Harry knew better than to say 'No'. Petunia only had favorite anything after Harry broke it so that he could be punished. He nodded his head in resignation. "It slipped, Uncle Vernon. I'll clean it up."

"You'll clean it up alright. And when you're done cleaning it up, I'm going to beat you black and blue in places no one will be able to see without deliberately looking." He took a threatening step toward Harry. "You get right to that you little freak. Don't stare at me like a trapped rat!"

Harry immediately turned and started to clean up the mess. He was nervous, Vernon only ever told him he'd receive a beating if it was going to be especially brutal. He'd be in a lot of pain tonight, no use kidding himself about that.

There was one thing Harry never understood though, why everyone called him a freak. Sure, on occasion weird things happened around him. Once or twice they'd even happened to him. Like the time Dudley and his friend Piers had ben chasing him around the school yard. He'd wanted so badly to get away from them safely, when he turned a corner to try and loose them, he'd found himself on top of the school's roof. But it wasn't like Harry could control these things, or was even making them happen. They just happened, and he got the blame.

As soon as the last piece was cleaned up and in the trash, Harry felt a large meaty hand come across the back of his neck. "Time to play my way, Boy!"

* * *

Harry awoke two hours later in utter darkness. He took a moment to look around, noticing a sharp pain with every breath he took. He realized soon that he was in the cupboard under the stairs, as usual. As he tried to sit up, the pain intensified, causing Harry to wince and fall back to the small cot that served as his bed. He lay there for what felt like an eternity before feeling something crawling on his face.

Reaching up Harry pulled the chain that hung from his small light, casting the tiny space in a dull glow. He brushed a hand over his face, feeling whatever it was crawl on his hand. He pulled the hand away to see what was on him, only to see a long, spindly-legged spider. He recognized it as one of the cupboard's newest inhabitants, only having been here a couple weeks; the black spots on its back gave it away. "Reginald, what are you doing on me? Come to make sure I'm alright?"

As the cupboard had gained more occupants, Harry had taken to naming them. They were his only companions in life that didn't hurt him. His friends. The sad part was, they'd only been there a few weeks at most. He'd been alone up until that point. As he moved to set the spider aside, it looked at him. _Silly_, Harry thought, _spiders don't look at people_. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Reginald had been locking eyes with him.

Harry reached up to turn the light off, figuring to get a little sleep before Vernon woke him up for more Dudley's Birthday chores. As soon as his eyes closed though, the door opened, the light from the sitting room blocked out by the massive bulk of his uncle. "Boy! Ge-" Vernon stopped short and jumped back, his face paling to a pasty white as if he'd seen a ghost.

Harry sat up and looked questioningly at his uncle. "Are you ok, Uncle Vernon?"

"How did you do that, boy?"

"Do what?"

"Your eyes, boy! They were glowing green...and your face was..." He trailed off into silence before standing straighter. "I WILL NOT HAVE THAT FREAKISHNESS IN MY HOUSE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

Harry flinched back in fear, a hand instantly rising up to shield himself from any coming assaults. None came though, and Harry looked back at his uncle. "Get out of that cupboard. Mrs. Figg is sick and can't watch you today. As loathe as I am to do so, you'll have to come with us to the zoo." Leaning in threateningly, Vernon continued in a soft voice. "Any freakishness while Piers is with us for the day and you won't wake up for a week." He glared at Harry for good measure. "Any questions?"

Harry shook his head, causing Vernon to leave. It took him a moment to realize what had just happened. _I've never been to the zoo before_, Harry thought, _Thank you Mrs. Figg!_ It was a bit of a toss up on how to feel at the moment. On one hand, the kind lady who had an obsession for cats had always been kind to him. But on the other, her being sick got him a trip to the zoo, even if he did have to spend the trip with Dudley and Piers.

Harry quickly got up and put on his best hand-me-down clothes to prepare. He barely even felt the pain in his body from Vernon's latest beating, he was so excited. Today may have started out bad, but it was certainly looking up for the soon to be eleven year old.

* * *

The zoo was fantastic. Being out of the house and having fun was fantastic. This was the best of Dudley's birthdays that Harry could ever remember! Never mind the beating he'd taken earlier in the day, this was marvelous. The sun was out, the gorillas looked like Vernon and Dudley with dark hair, and Harry was having a blast. He'd even gotten an ice cream, but only because the lady at the stand had noticed him before Vernon could get away with only ice creams for the family and Piers.

The day was getting late and Dudley was getting bored. That was when Piers spotted the reptile house and suggested they go inside. Harry followed a safe distance behind his relatives, alternating between watching the lizards and snakes, and watching to make sure Dudley and Piers didn't corner him alone.

Harry joined Dudley at the glass encasement to what was apparently the home of an Egyptian King Cobra. Dudley's face was pressed to the glass while the snake looked at him. "It won't move!" He pounded a meaty fist on the glass and huffed. "Stupid snake...no wonder they caught you." He turned to walk over and join Piers at the enclosure of a Boa Constrictor.

Harry looked in at the snake and had the distinct feeling it was watching him. The snake turned it's head to look in the direction that Dudley had gone when it's mouth moved. //Stupid monkey! If I was free I'd bite your fat rear!//

Harry blinked in amazement at the snake. //You just spoke!// The snake's head whipped around to face Harry again.

It's voice came out in what Harry would describe as astonishment. //A speaker! I have not heard of a speaker since the Dark Times!//

Harry's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. _The dark times? Is it talking about the Middle Ages?_ He looked back at Dudley and Piers, who were trying in vain to get the boa to move. //Sorry about him. My cousin can be rude to anything in a cage. Especially if it's me.//

The snake shook it's head//Do not worry, Speaker. I am used to it. The rotund monkey is not the first to act that way towards me.// Harry nodded his head and leaned against the glass, facing the snake once more.

//So...you're from Egypt then?// The snake nodded, still eyeing Dudley. //What's it like there?//

The snake looked ready to answer but stopped. //It returns...with another, smaller monkey.// Harry turned in time to see Dudley push him aside.

"Out of the way, freak!" Dudley taunted him while pressing his face to the glass again.

Piers joined Dudley and smiled. "I told you it was moving now. I guess it's a freak snake and only moved because your freak cousin was near." The duo laughed as Harry fell on his side, the air leaving his lungs.

He started to stand up when he heard a shriek from Dudley as he tried to keep form falling in the suddenly glass less enclosure. Piers was frantically trying to keep Dudley fall despite gravity and the larger boy's weight. He succeeded but ended up on the floor with Dudley on top of him.

//Thank you, Speaker. I owe you a great debt!// Harry turned to see the cobra staring at him from right next to his foot.

//It was nothing?// He was unsure why the snake thought he was the cause of it's sudden freedom. He hadn't done anything but get pushed aside and fall.

//If you desire anything within my power...// The snake eyed Harry //Simply ask.//

Harry smiled and motioned his head toward's Dudley and Piers. Jokingly he replied //Not unless you'd mind biting the fat one. But I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. He probably tastes something awful.//

Before Harry knew it the snake had turned and lashed out at Dudley's fat legs. It's teeth sunk through the denim of his jeans and Dudley screamed out in pain. Harry watched in shock as the snake bowed before slithering away. Moments later he was pushed aside as Vernon and Petunia made their way over screaming bloody murder.

The couple hours were utterly boring as Harry watched a manager of the facility and a snake expert come in to administer an anti-venom to Dudley. The fat boy was turning some interesting colors by that time. The whole time Vernon yelled about getting a barrister and suing the zoo for every last pound it had.

All Harry could think about was what had happened. Had he really been talking to a snake? Had it really talked back? What had happened to the glass? He shook his head thinking about it all. _Did I really get that snake to bite Dudley? Or had it done that simply because he'd teased it earlier?_ It was hard for Harry to be sure. It had happened so fast that he wasn't sure if the snake had bitten Dudley before or after he'd jokingly asked it to.

Once Dudley was safely in the hospital for observation, Vernon ushered Harry and Piers back to the car. Petunia opted to stay the night with her Dinky Duddydums. The car ride was boring, and Harry was looking forward, for once, to getting back to his cupboard. The day soured completely when Harry heard Piers talking to Vernon. "And then I saw Harry talking to it, so I told Dudley and we went to see. That's when the glass vanished and it got out. I think Harry was talking to it right before it bit Dudley, too."

Harry slowly turned his head to see his Uncle looking straight ahead, his face completely calm. That was what scared Harry the most. If Vernon was calm, then he'd probably get beaten so badly he'd wake up and be twenty.

The car came to a halt outside of Piers' house. As soon as the boy was out, Vernon started off toward Number 4. The ride was quiet, all the more alarming for Harry. Vernon parked the car in the driveway and got out, Harry following after him at a short distance. The door was opened and Vernon disappeared inside. Harry poked his head inside and looked around, Vernon was over by the phone checking the messages.

He closed the door behind him as he made his way through the entry way. He rounded the corner to the stairs, intent on getting to the cupboard before Vernon could get to him. Maybe once he got inside he'd be safe. Unfortunately, just as he opened the door Harry felt a meaty hand grab him by the scruff of his neck. Vernon's voice came from right by his left ear, his voice deadly calm. "And where do you think you're going? I seem to remember a promise that I made earlier...I am a man of my word."

The world went black when Harry felt the wall beside the cupboard door collide with his head.

* * *

AN: Grosse connard - French for Large jerk, or in this case Fat jerk.

Just to clarify, I'm writing it that the attack on Godric's Hollow happened the morning of October the 31st, just after midnight. Hagrid would then take Harry to Hogwarts where he spends the entire day caring for him while Dumbledore sets up the wards at Privet Drive, and McGonagall goes on her little recon of the place. I didn't write what happened then because I'd be pretty much copying from Philosopher's Stone, and that's plagiarism as I do not have J.K. Rowling's permission to recreate her work like that. I merely wrote my take on the events of the attack and what happened after. If you wish to know what happened during the day and the following night then I suggest you pick up a copy of Harry Potter and Philosopher's Stone (Socerer's Stone in the U.S.) And read that. :D

Thank you to my beautiful beta (she'll kill me for calling her beautiful) Marina Black1. Without her help this story would look like an even bigger piece of trash than it probably already does.

For those who recognized it, when Vernon opened the closet door Harry's eyes were glowing green and his face was masked in shadow. This is a sign of the Shadow Mage, an ability I borrowed with kind permission from pureb99. It can be seen in his story The Dark Lord Potter, and will be a part of my series for the duration. It's a good read, and I highly suggest everyone take a look to see for yourselves. Just for the record, the Shadow Mage originated in the story "Shadow Play", which is where Pureb99 got it from. Ok, I think all my bases are covered.

And on a final note, some of you, especially my fellow Americans, might be wondering why I said baby Harry was in a cot and not a crib. The British call a crib a cot. And I'm trying to make this sound as authentic as possible even in the narration. Oh an incase your wonder "If a cot is what they call a crib, then what do they call a crib?" The answer to that is camp-bed, because it's usually only used in camps. If you'd like to know where I got my British slang from, I asked my beta and she provided me with this site for my slang, and has a good section on British words used in the British versions of the Harry Potter series for us Americans as well.

Don't worry, this will likely be my longest author's note, just to clarify.


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